Exchanges on a Rainy Afternoon
by Mrs. James Harold Potter
Summary: The steady beat of the rain has always brought more tranquility for me than any cigarette ever could. A happy numbing sensation overtakes my body as the rain strikes the window. I should have known it would never work. I loved her though. Literati. R&R.
1. Reflection

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN ANY OF IT. Amy Sherman-Palladino and Daniel Palladino I bow down to you. And all the literary and musical and movie references go to their respective owners.

**A/N: Hey guys! Yes, it's been a while since I've posted anything, but this time I shall promise you that if I have an idea for a story, I will stick with it. But for now, a slew of one shots until I DO get a good enough idea. Reviews (flaming or not) are greatly appreciated. **

**This takes place about a month after the show ended**

Exchanges on a Rainy Afternoon

The steady beat of the rain has always brought more tranquility for me than any cigarette ever could. Even now, as rain pounds on my window, flowing down in rivulets, a happy numbing sensation takes over my body as the rain strikes once again. My head however, is buried in a manuscript, a hopeful twenty two year old, who thinks her story about a woman falling in love with a jail inmate is actually worth publishing. Wrong. It's actually complete shit. I mean, half the time I haven't got a clue what she's talking about, and when I do have a clue, its so faint that I'd have to read the sentence over six times to finally understand the meaning. _She stared into ostentatiously into his saddened skillful sapphires still reminiscing of her younger years. _A bad attempt at an alliteration, yes. The sentence itself doesn't make much sense either! Still, I finish reading the one hundred fifty page story before chucking it in the 'NO' pile. I knew from the first page that the story wasn't going to be the next great American novel. But hey, the longer I stayed locked up in my room reading these, the less time I had to spend downstairs, talking to people about books.

It's fucking ridiculous beyond your wildest dreams, but it's true. A giant claw clenches my stomach anytime someone mentions Ayn Rand. A tingling sensation spreads throughout my body if anyone tells me that Hemingway is a painful author to read. Even that moron, Holden Caulfield, who she had once said I was too busy pretending to be to care about that goddamned town makes me want to stop on Salinger's grave for even inventing the character in the first place.

Rory. Rory, Rory, Rory. I never tell anyone, but at times I miss her. Times like these, where I'm alone, staring out the window at the bleak downpour covering Philadelphia. Times like these where the smell of books suddenly takes me to those hours on the bridge where we sat, bodies melded together like wax as I told her stories about the people I knew in New York. I know that as long as I have the memory, I will never be truly alone, but I can't help myself. I can't help the fact that drinking coffee reminds me of what she tasted like when I kissed her all those mornings in Luke's. But I still drink it, thinking that somehow, someway, it would bring Rory back to me.

It was time to let go. It was time to stop dwelling in the past, thinking that change was going to happen. I should have realized it would never work, from the moment she told me to leave her dorm room three years ago. I loved her though. I loved her with every fiber of my being. I still do. But for my own sake, its time to let go.

Suddenly, my phone begins to play the first few measures of London Calling. I glance down at the caller I.D. to see who it is. _Rory._ My first instinct is to pick it up right away, but I don't. Hearing her voice again would pull me back into that trap. I couldn't take the hurt anymore. I was trying to let go. The phone played up to the chorus and then stopped. A few moments later I received a voicemail. Whatever Rory had needed must have been important, right? I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, did I? And I would have to erase the message eventually. The only logical thing at the moment seemed to be paying attention to the message.

Quickly lighting a cigarette, I dialed my voicemail, putting the phone to my ear. I took a long drag before finally listening.

"Jess?" her voice said unsurely. She had been crying. I could hear it in her voice. "Jess, I don't know if this is your phone, but it was the one Luke gave to me when I asked him for it. I don't really know if it's the right number, because, well you know Luke's organization skills aren't exactly up to Martha Stewart's standards, and I'm just going to say sorry in advanced if this is some random guy that doesn't even know if I exist, because this might just creep you out a little bit. And wife of the random guy, this message isn't for your husband, I swear. Don't think he's cheating on you, because he's probably not. Well, I'm not going to say he isn't because there always is that off-chance that he is…but you never know. Forget it. Just talk it over with your husband. If this is Jess, just forget you heard all of that. Sorry I'm ranting."

I smirked a little into the phone. Rory only rants when she's nervous. She took a shuddering breath, trying to maintain her composure. "Logan…he…he proposed to me last month." My heart sunk. "And I didn't know what to say…it was this huge, beautiful ring—you know, straight out of the Fabulous Life, but I didn't know. I mean, obviously when someone asks you to marry them you should have an initial reaction, otherwise there is something wrong you know? And I knew there must have been something wrong with me, because I just gaped at him like an idiot at first. So then I waited a while, and I finally gave him an answer." _Why is she telling me this? _I thought bitterly, running a hand through my hair. Every minute that went by, knowing that she was talking about that blonde asshole was a pierce to my heart. I was about to hang up when…

"I said no." she continued, regaining the confident quality in her voice. "And I went home that night, and thought. And thought, and thought, and thought. And I was wrong. I didn't love him. I can't… I can't believe I was so stupid. I…I...so…I started to read Catcher and the Rye." I sat up in the armchair, listening intently to Rory, still curious as to what this was all about. Rory laughed sadly.

"I know. Catcher in the Rye, right? Of all the great pieces of literature, I chose to go with Salinger. I read the whole thing in two hours, trying to push everything out of my mind—trying not to worry about Logan, or Yale, or what's to come afterward. And I didn't. For a while, I just imagined myself to be this person, this invisible person that had nothing to worry about, just following Holden wherever he went, whatever he did, I was there. But then on the last page, when he said something about not talking to people. You remember that? He said to never talk to people, because then you miss them like crazy. Just stick with me, Jess, I swear there is a point."

She continued, her voice wavering once again. "And I think we both know Holden is pretty screwed up, but for once he was right. Of everyone that's come in and out of my life, as much as it seems like it, I never did forget about you. And I'm sorry for everything that I did to you. I know you're sorry for what you did to me…but what I did to you in Philadelphia, when I was still with Logan. I didn't love him…I just...well, I did. But it was a different kind of love." Now, either the rain was distorting her voice, or Rory really was crying now.

"Jess…I loved you…I could have loved you so much more…I wish you didn't leave. It made me feel like I wasn't good enough for you…you didn't say anything…no goodbye…again. You did it to me twice! And I was fed up. I'm not that kind of girl…the kind of girl that sits around waiting…waiting…for something to happen. I sat at the bridge…the day after I saw you on the bus…waiting for you…that night…that night…I thought you were coming back." she managed, her voice lathered with sadness.

"I just…and then…when I…I just…missed hearing your voice. And I'm not too sure if the guy that said this was Jess on the answering machine was in all actuality Jess, but I'm really hoping it is. You don't have to call me back. I just…I wanted to hear your voice. Because I…well I really miss you. I…really do…" Rory suppressed sobs in her voice. "Bye, Jess."

I didn't hang up until the operator instructed me to do so. The rain outside was no longer pouring. A light drizzle fell from the large overcast sky. My first cigarette had been long gone, so I pulled out yet another, lighting it and taking a long drag. Rubbing my temples, I turned my attention back to the phone. I had to do it…it was only right…

I dialed her number back, listening to the ring of her cell phone. Minutes later, Rory picked up, her voice as comforting as I remembered it.

"Jess?" she asked hesitantly.

"Rory…" I began, but she cut me off.

"Jess, I understand. I'm sorry that I called. My mom was out with Luke somewhere, and who knows where Paris is, I think she's in the middle of something, because when I called her I heard someone ranting in the background in Spanish and she sounded really irate, and you know how Paris can get when she's angry…so I just left. And there was really nothing in our fridge, well, there was mayo, bread, and a pear, and I'm not really too sure why there was a pear in the first place, seeing as no one in our house is much of a fruit person. Other than that one time when I went to Doose's and bought an orange because my mom thought that I wouldn't want to—"

"Rory. I miss you too."

"…wouldn't want to eat it. So then I bought the orange and I ended up throwing it out. But that doesn't really explain why there was a pear in the fridge anyway…so then that's why I…"

"Rory!"

"Oh! You didn't hang up yet? I thought that by now you would've seeing as that was totally unnecessary, and I didn't think that the pear was washed anyway. And you know that it wouldn't make much sense to _wash _a pear with shampoo…'cause then it would just taste like soap and …"

"I never forgave myself for what I did to you, Rory. I shouldn't have left." I said quietly, interrupting her once again.

"Then why did you?" she asked, her voice full of hurt. "You shut me out Jess…"

"I know. I…can we talk about this in person?"

"Yeah." she sighed with a smile, absentmindedly flipping through _Howl_, the copy that Jess had put his notes in. "That would be good."

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll…we'll figure something out." I paused. "I promise."

"Jess?"

"Yeah?" I asked, tossing the burnt cigarette into the ashtray.

"I'm glad you called me back."

"Yeah?" For the first time in years, a genuine smile appeared on my face. The smile that I only gave to her. I knew she couldn't see it through the phone, but I was certain that she could hear it, feel it.

"Yeah. And Jess?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you too."

At that moment, the heavy downpour enveloped the city once again.

**A/N: Hate it? Love it? See that purple button? Click it! You know you want to! :)**


	2. Confrontation

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. Or anything else in this story that has an owner other than myself. Which is basically everything.

**A/N: By popular demand, this story is back! Enjoy! And please, review. I love getting feedback, so I know what I'm doing wrong, and if so, how to correct it. And positive feedback is always great as well! And I'll make a promise. To all my reviewers, I will go and return the favor for you!**

Chapter 2-Confrontation

I'm still not too sure what demonic spirit had possessed me to get into my car and drive to Star's Hallow, but I still did it. I told Rory that I would meet her at the bridge. It was my idea. I made a mental note to have an exorcism done the second I got back to Philly. I mean, it was good logic, wasn't it? Any old place would have made do, but for the conversation I was about to have with Rory, the bridge was the only sensible one. We had so much history there, it was only right.

Strolling through the foliage of the forest, my nerves began to settle in. I considered lighting up a smoke, but I remembered the reward I had gotten last time for choosing not to do so…

"_You gonna smoke that or mind meld with it?" a voice called distantly. I looked at the cigarette in my hand, and then looked back up to realize who it was. Rory. _

"_It depends." I grinned, straightening myself out against the telephone pole._

"_Where's the part for your car?" she asked, although I could tell from the look on her face she already knew that answer._

"_Huh, I don't know. Gypsy said she was gonna leave it for me somewhere. Guess she forgot." I said with an innocent shrug, smirking._

"_She's bad that way."_

"I'm just gonna have to take my business elsewhere."

_  
"Looks that way." She murmured, as the past minute had allowed us to edge closer and closer together._

"_So."  
_

"_So." She repeated, her face inches from mine. I could feel her warm breath against my cheek._

"_Here we are." I whispered, my brown eyes flicking up into her sapphire ones, sparkling in the streetlight._

"_Yeah, here we are." Her hands found mine. Electricity shot through my veins. I nervously fumbled with the unused cigarette in my hand. She noticed. "So tell me, what's your decision on smoking that depending on?"_

"_On what's gonna happen." I said simply, my eyes never leaving hers._

"_When?" Her forehead pressed against my own. I wondered if her heart had been beating as hard as mine had._

"_Now." With a sudden surge of confidence, I leaned in and kissed her. Warmth spread from my lips to the tips of my fingers. I couldn't help but feel happy as her fingers made their way to my hair. By this point I had already forgotten about the cigarette. This was what I had been waiting for all along. This kiss was different from the one at the wedding; this one was allowed. No one could find fault in the fact that I had just kissed Rory Gilmore. Especially Dean, seeing as he was no longer with her. I was._

"_I'm glad you didn't smoke it." She whispered into my ear, as her body pressed even closer to mine._

_  
"Yeah?" For the first time in a very long time, a genuine smile crept upon my face. Who'd have thought I'd be getting such a reward for just choosing not to smoke?_

But that was then. That was before, when I was seventeen. Now, at twenty two, I know better. Choosing not to smoke a cigarette wouldn't change a thing. It wouldn't make Rory forgive me any quicker, and she definitely wouldn't be kissing me like she did that night five years ago. Or kissing me at all for that matter. I pulled the cigarette out, my hands trembling slightly from the fact that I was nervous, and it had been a while since my last one.

I took the newly lit cigarette and gave it a long drag, allowing the nicotine to provide me with a temporary relief from the anxiety. As I finally reached the clearing in the woods leading to the bridge, I was forced to acknowledge a new problem. I had no idea what I was planning on saying to Rory. What could I say to make up for everything that I had done? There was always being spontaneous. Spontaneity always seemed to work out just fine for me. Hopefully this time it would carry through…

My thoughts were suddenly halted by a distraction in the shape of Rory Gilmore. There she was—her legs simply dangling over the water's edge, her head buried in a book, just as if this were any other day. My head was telling me to walk over to her, to begin saying how sorry I was, but my body was telling me otherwise. I felt glued to the spot. I quickly decided that there had to be a plan of action. There were two options. If I simply stood here and waited for Rory to notice my presence, then, well, we may never get the opportunity to talk—depending on the author. And even if she _did _notice me eventually, I would look like a moron simply standing there and watching. On the other hand, if I could just muster up the courage to approach her—maybe we could begin to talk things out. Sometime in the vicinity of the next minute?

Slowly but surely, I crossed the bridge, making my way to the middle. I stood behind Rory's crouched figure for a minute. As solemn as this occasion was about to become, it had been killing me to know what book she was reading.

"_A Million Little Pieces."_ She had caught me off guard, with her answering my question aloud. I couldn't help but smile though. That's how well she knew me. She patted the wood next to her as a signal to sit down as well.

"How long did you know I was there?" I questioned, tossing the stub of my cigarette into the water and watching it burn orange then black, before turning my full attention back to Rory. It had been a while since I'd last seen her. Her hair was a different—a little longer—and she was as beautiful as ever—especially the eyes. But something was missing.

She laughed nervously, her eyes shifting between myself, the water, and the cover of her book. "When you decided to light that." She nodded towards the burnt out stub floating in the water. "I just noticed, because I had been checking to see if you were there…" she laughed nervously again, shaking her head. "Because, you know, sometimes there can be traffic coming all the way from Philadelphia, and then I thought, 'Hey, maybe something just terrible happened to Jess, and here I was thinking that he just decided to run away from his problems once again…'"

"Rory…" I began, knowing where this was going. I evaluated her once again. Her cheeks were flushed an extraordinary shade of ruby, and her eyes were tearing up, and her body was trembling.

"Not that I think that you would…I just…after everything that I've done to you, I thought it was pretty safe to assume that you wouldn't wanna be here in the first place…but hey! Here you are! Intact and everything." She attempted to smile at me, but her face began to crumble.

"Rory…"I repeated softly, placing my hand cautiously on her arm. "Rory…its okay…" Wrong answer.

"No! It's not okay!" she said furiously. "This is my entire fault…I did that to you…I came…came…to Truncheon that day…and I…when you…and Logan…and I…god, Jess, this is my entire fault… it's my entire fault…" Rory was no longer trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her like a brother would, rubbing her back in gentle circles, trying to soothe her. She returned the gesture, burying her face in my chest.

"Damnit, Rory." I mumbled into her hair. "You shouldn't be sorry. I deserved it."

She pulled away from the embrace, shaking her head, bothered by the fact that I had said that. "No, you didn't. I owed you. You helped me so much…if it weren't for you...I probably wouldn't have graduated Yale…I would have been living with my grandparents…in the DAR…"

"You went back because of me?" Pride welled up in my chest as Rory nodded. I didn't realize…

"I had to. You made me really think, Jess. I mean…not talking to my _mother_? My mom is my best friend in the whole world, and there I was, living with my _grandparents _and wearing those ridiculous dresses to the DAR just as if I was something straight out of_ Carnival _or something! I needed to change everything you said…so I did." she looked up at me and smiled.

"But you stayed with that blonde dick." I muttered bitterly, turning away from Rory, gazing out at the lake.

"He's not a dick, Jess." She responded with a sigh, wiping away her tears with a knowing smile. "He's just—"

"Oh did he decide to go through a sex change or something? Those things are _expensive_. But hey, he's rolling in cash, right? Because instead of dick I can just call him pussy, yeah I like the sound of—"

"Logan was a great guy, Jess." Rory said over my rant, folding her arms across her chest. "He was just different than you—different than Dean."

"So you're telling me all that shit he said that night we all went to that bar was _great?_" I said angrily, inching myself away from Rory so I could get a better look at her. "Rory, I meant what I said—we used to make fun of guys like that! We used to—"

"It doesn't matter anymore. We're not together anymore."

"At all? With no chance of getting back together?"

"Not that I know of."

"Huh." Rory glared at me for a minute, and then opened her mouth to say something.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," Rory yelled wildly to no one in particular, startling several swans. "Watch closely as I, Rory Gilmore, attempts to delve into the precarious mind of Jess Mariano—on a search to find meaning in his monosyllabic answers. Yes, very dangerous—if I try too hard, he may just stop telling me things altogether, but it's worth a try, right? Perhaps on that search I can find the reason why he left not one, but _two_ times! Two! Without saying goodbye! A complete chap, right, ladies and gentlemen?"

I rolled my eyes. "I had a feeling that was coming."

Rory didn't seem to find humor in the situation at all. She was angry. Five years of confusion and hurt were hidden behind those beautiful cerulean eyes. I had hurt her. The last person on this earth that I would want to harm in any way, I did. Funny how life works out, isn't it? All these changing emotions, anger, hurt, confusion, sadness, were all because of the time. Five long years, and now we were finally letting it all out. Better _out than in, I always say_. I mentally slapped myself for quoting Shrek. _Where is my head going today?_

"Tell me. Did the wind just blow you away to California without saying anything? Or was it something that I said? Did Luke throw you out? Was it 'cause you weren't graduating? Was I not good enough for you?" she said quickly, tossing a pebble into the water, staring down and watching the aftershock of the drop move throughout the water.

"You weren't good enough for me?" I asked incredulously, chuckling, as I joined Rory in tossing pebbles into the water. "I think it was more _me_ not being good enough for _you_."

Rory was silent, so I continued.

"You were going to _Yale_, Rory. Yale, one of the best universities in the country, for God's sake. You were graduating Chilton—a few steps above Star's Hallow High, thank you very much—valedictorian of your class too. And where was I?" I faced Rory, my brown eyes piercing into her ocean blue with meaning. "I wasn't going anywhere after high school. I couldn't even graduate because I had missed so much. And I couldn't repeat the year…I just couldn't." I buried my face in my hands, extremely frustrated with myself. Rory watched me with concern in her eyes. She placed a hand on my shoulder, letting me know that comfort was there when I needed it. "I couldn't get prom tickets either. I…felt like such…such a jerk. And I wasn't good enough for you, Ror. You deserved more than a reject that couldn't even graduate high school, and wasn't going anywhere afterward."

"You were good enough for me." she stated quietly to herself, holding the stone in her hand awkwardly, tossing it back and forth into her hands. She looked into my eyes. Although still shady, I began to see some of the Rory Gilmore I used to know. "I knew that you were smarter than anyone at Star's Hallow High. It didn't matter to me."

"And then Jimmy asked me to come back to California."

"Jimmy?"

"My dad."

Her mouth formed a small 'o', but the sound never came out. We both lapsed into a fit of silence. I listened to the summer crickets chirping as nighttime came closer. The sunset bled beautiful shades of red, orange, yellow, and pink. We watched the sun dip below the horizon, and it became night. Neither of us spoke. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence—more of an unspoken conformity. Whatever I was feeling, I knew that Rory was feeling exactly the same thing. But things were still not completely better.

"If I could go back, I would have done it all differently." Rory stared at me sadly.

"How?" she asked softly, moving a little closer to me.

"I don't know _how._ I just know I would have." I said with a shrug.

"You're different, Jess." she stated bluntly, her hand found the sleeve of my arm, rubbing her thumb against the soft fabric as she spoke. My heart drummed loudly inside my chest. "Different from back then."

I laughed, lying down on the wood of the bridge, staring up at the starry sky. Rory followed suit, her hand still gently rubbing my arm. "We're all a little different from when we were seventeen. I was an asshole."

"So what are you now?" I smirked.

"An even bigger asshole." Rory laughed. "No, I'm serious. An even bigger asshole that's learned some things about life."

"Like…?" she prompted, turning over on one side and propping her face up on her elbow to look at me properly. I remained on my back.

"Like…if there's an old lady crossing the street…then you should help her. And if there's a ten year old boy trying to shoot up in the alley, then you should run over and teach him _properly_ how to do so."

"Je-ess." she whined playfully, smacking me in the arm. I grinned.

"Ro-ry." I mimicked, turning over as well. We both realized in that moment that our faces were mere inches away. "So."

"So." she whispered back, staring dazed into my eyes.

"Here we are." I said quietly, numbness spreading through my arm as I realized her hand was now on top of my own.

"Yeah…here we are." she said slowly, blinking.

_Memories. _Damn those memories. They slowly came back to me, washing over me like a tidal wave. It happened to Rory too—that's how well I knew her. I knew what she was thinking of…

"_So."  
_

"_So." She repeated, her face inches from mine. I could feel her warm breath against my cheek._

"_Here we are." I whispered, my brown eyes flicking up into her sapphire ones, sparkling in the streetlight._

"_Yeah, here we are._

But we'd kissed that night. We couldn't. I jerked away from Rory, and wasn't surprised that she did the same.

"Jess…we can't…"

"I know."

"We can't…after we just finally solved things…and…I…and you…and the cigarette…and the plan…with the kissing…leaving the diner… and the telephone pole, and it made me remember…"

"Me too."

"And we should be friends…for a while…and if anything comes of it, then it does…because everything's finally working out…and I think that we should just be friends…yeah…I think that's what I want."

"Sounds good to me."

"But I just want to make sure that it's alright with you, because I don't want you to get mad, and not tell me. Because that's what friends do, right?" she asked breathlessly, continuing to speak quickly. "We tell each other things? Because what happens if one day you lose your ability to speak, and you can't tell me how you feel…and you become this implosive person who can't speak, and loses their temper because they can't tell their family and friends their opinion or anything…and…"

"Will I be an alcoholic and get VH1 cameras following me around, too?" I asked hopefully. Rory laughed.

"Sorry…I'm just being stupid. God, why do I always do this?"

"Rory, I think we should just be friends. It took me five years to get everything right, so there's no way in hell I'm screwing it up again."

"Same here." Rory opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again. She did this a few times, taking on the appearance of a gaping fish. I cocked an eyebrow, extremely amused. Finally she took her chance to say something.

"I…I really missed having you around, Jess." Wordlessly, I pulled Rory into a tight embrace, allowing myself to take her in for the first time. The wall was down at long last. I buried my face in her hair, drinking in the scent of orchid flowers and vanilla, remembering what it felt like to love someone. Maybe in time…if time allowed it…things could be the way they used to…Those long hours in the bookstore…or on this very bridge…the feeling of her lips touching my own…

Rory smiled shyly, toying with the cover of that book that she was reading, _A Million Pieces._ This was the Rory I knew. She had come back. Well, I had too. With a start, I realized what had been missing from the picture the whole time. The reason she didn't seem to be the same. It was me. Was that a possibility? Ah, fuck it. I'll leave the philosophy of it to Socrates.

"So is that any good?" I asked, studying Rory's face as she rambled on about James Frey's crack/alcohol addiction and his six weeks in rehab. Of course, I'd already read it. Was there anything wrong with an excuse to hear her voice? Of course not.

I interrupted Rory in the middle of a sentence about withdrawal and something about a broken nose. "Rory?"

"Yeah?" She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm glad I came." She nodded in agreement.

"It's good to have you back, Dodger."


End file.
